User blog comment:Bartholomew Billberry Bowstring/Tavern of the Rusted Claw/@comment-5343292-20120813153758/@comment-25220117-20120904144235

One of the thinner rats, his gray-haired arms covered in tattoos, turns to nod to his large companion, obviously there for muscle than for interrogating "If he ain't who we think `e is, we'll killim straight off moment we're aboard. But think, we ain't seen Captain fer hours, y'rilly thinks `e's paying us to stand around jawing? Git th' ferret aboard, I don't give a hydra's spit if he ain't right. We'll gut `im and leave `im fer th' seabirds if we figgers he don't werk like Captain `ad Sored describe `im. Git th' ferret aboard, Orgey. When Captain's not here, I'm in charge. An' I want yew t' git him aboard" The rat, Orgey, turned to give the ferret an ugly lear "Yea, righ'. A' Ay'll gud yew mayself if y' lie, firrut-Abord widjee" He moves aside to let the ferret climb into the gently bobbing boat, his good eye bloodshot and staring